Ponderings
by Amashelle
Summary: Just a couple short clips in which Sauron searches patiently for IT. Chapter Two deals with a few of Grima's thoughts and ch. 3 focuses on Saruman.
1. Sauron

Disclaimer ~ I don't own the characters or the plotline, but the words are mine.  
  
Author's Note ~ Don't ask me why I keep writing in the point of view of the villians, but so few people do that I find it an interesting area to explore.  
  
I watched with grim satisfaction as everything I had worked so hard for began to fall slowly into place. There was only one thing missing before I could take hold or Arda and hold it in the palm of my hand. But where was it?  
  
The nine had been released, along with that wreatched beast who had prooved so helpful in giving me the name of he who now has my ring. Yes, it would not be long now. I could feel my time was drawing neerer.   
  
Sarumon had been a wise choice for an ally. He was foolish, as so many of those that wander the earth below me. He would do anything I asked, and then he would get all that he deserved for it. Eventually, all beings cease to be of use.  
  
I can feel the frustration of the nine as they loose sight of he that bears the ring. Curse them! If they cannot keep track of a simple halfling then what use are they? And yet, I do not dispose of them as I would my other servants. They are secure in the knowledge that I will keep them alive. For them, that is a far greater punishment.  
  
My powers are growing, I can feel them returning to me. But, in the center of my mind, there is an emptiness, a space that can only be filled by one thing. I call to it again, and I hear it's whispered reply, louder than it was before. If only I could find it!  
  
It upset me to know how many of the rings have been lost to me. The three of the elves, hidden from my sight. Those of the dwarfs, gone, destroyed. I know only where nine of them rest; upon the fingers of the Nazgul. It is frustrating. Now I will have to destroy the elves, for with their powers, they could oppose me, and I do not wish for opposition.  
  
And so I can do nothing but wait. No matter, I am patient. I have not spent all this time regaining my strength only to fall again into weekness due to acting out of turn. Despite myself, I call once more. 


	2. Grima Wormtounge

Disclaimer ~ I don't own the characters or the plotline, which are property of J.R.R. Tolkien, but the words are mine.  
  
I shuddered in the warm breaze that blew in through the balcony to my right. I was scared, but I refused to show it. Saruman did not tolerate fear.   
  
There was so much I did not understand, so many doubts I had. I could still feel the path that the tear had taken down my cheak, though all signs of it's presence had been erased- I hoped.   
  
I had never really liked my people, though I had served King Theoden as best I could. I had tried to improove the land, to proove to the Lady Eowyn that I was worthy of her. To proove to my mother that she had not gone wrong. Saruman had offered to help me accomlish this, but he had lied. I now knew that.  
  
He did not wish to save Rohan, he wanted to destroy it, and I had helped him do it. I had betrayed my people, and now they would die while I remained here, safe. Safe and alone.  
  
I remember telling Eowyn of what it must be like for her when she was alone. I had understood her then, or I thought I had. Now I knew for certain what alone was. To have nobody on your side. To know that there is nowhere else to go...  
  
I shuddered again, though this time it had nothing to do with the wind. 


	3. Saruman

Disclaimer ~ I don't own the characters or the plot, which were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, but the words are mine.  
  
In this world, there are three things that drive us. Hate, as it fuels vengence and spures destruction. Fear, which can mold one's mind in ways it would not otherwise be shaped. And love, wether it be for another person, such as it is in the case of poor Grima, or for power.  
  
In the end, power rules us all.We are all slaves to those who have it. It strikes fear into the hearts of those who know it. And it is one of the only things that we can both love and despise with the same breath.  
  
I have known power all my life. I have survived with it inside me, and, at last, I have been able to set it free. To use that which I hold. In time, I will be capable of overthrow him. He that sees all. I will be able to take his place atop the tower of Barad-Dur, with all Middle Earth at my comand.  
  
Perhaps I am a fool. Sauron has always been a deciever, and I would not be the first to fall into his net of lies. I believe myself to be indespensible, irreplaceable. I have been given the honour of attacking Rohan for him. Yet, in the end, I cannot deny that I am no more than a servant. I am to him what Grima is to me. A minion who has prooven useful for the time being, and, deep down in the depths of my soul, I know that I will never be more than that. Perhaps I like the illusion, however fantastic it may be.  
  
What will happen to me when both Rohan and Gondor have failed? When all the free peoples of Arda have fallen to his will? 


End file.
